


An Untamed King

by Bluerose161



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alpha Asra, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asra is the adopted child of Lucio and Nadia, Beta Portia Devorak, Crossdressing, Developing Relationship, Dominant Asra (The Arcana), Flashbacks, Growing Up, Hair Kink, Heartbreak, Infidelity, M/M, Marking, Masochism, Men Crying, Omega Julian Devorak, Omega Verse, Oral Sex, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Princes & Princesses, Public Claiming, Sadism, Seduction, Self-Destruction, Submissive Julian Devorak, Touching, Unhealthy Relationships, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:14:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24470392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluerose161/pseuds/Bluerose161
Summary: But then, it seems to occur to him… He’s always given what Asra wants.When they first met so long ago, he didn’t fight the pull of his hold or the rebellion in his gaze. Every step of the way in their relationship, he’s been placid.He’s been willing at every moment. With each kiss and touch, he's eager and begging. Not once has he refused it, given Asra a challenge. His own desperation for the other's love, has it bored the other? Has his submission and willingness… Made the albino-haired male, pull away?What if Asra is pouring fuel into dried logs, and is waiting for Julian to strike the match?
Relationships: Asra/Julian Devorak
Comments: 7
Kudos: 44





	An Untamed King

**Author's Note:**

> A small disclaimer for this story.  
> 1\. I don't condone cheating at all. Personally, I believe people who cheat are scumbags, but in certain circumstances, if both parties are willing, they can work through it. Though, that is only if the person who cheated feels remorse and faces repercussions, which is hopefully properly shown in this story.  
> 2\. Although I have gone through Julian's playthrough of Arcana, I have not yet done Asra's. If I misrepresent his character I apologize. 
> 
> Aside from that, enjoy the fic!

The beautiful kingdom of Versuvia was blanketed in a sea of violet sky, stars twinkling in the abyss of the night to give some refuge within the darkness. Crickets hum their delicate songs atop blades of grass, while fireflies twinkle like the glowing balls of light hundreds of miles away from Earth. 

Aside from the quiet croaks of frogs and soft jeers of birds within the night, the kingdom lays in a state of calm. Townspeople stay in their homes, resting quietly with their families while guards patrol the grounds in a lazy stroll, the only evidence of their presence being the press of boots into gravel and torches providing sight that they carry. 

Despite the bliss of night that many succumb to, deep within ornately decorated halls and comfortable sleeping chambers, the King helplessly stares at the ceiling. 

His mind is far from the need for sleep, and stews in a place of sorrow and heartbreak. 

Even as he is laid upon a mattress that could make some weep at the softness, carefully covered in fine silks that rustle and wrinkle at any movement he makes in bed. Despite the soft fabric of his pajamas, that hug along his body to keep him warm in the night. 

Even then, the comfort his body experiences doesn’t suppress the inner turmoil for a longshot. It doesn’t cease, because there is no weight in the bed aside from his own. 

There is no comforting scent of myrrh or sage that pleasantly soothes his lungs and makes his eyes flutter. Nor is there a soft smile that makes his heart bounce steady off his ribcage.

No soft albino hair that he can card his fingers into so he can listen to the male let out a sweet preen under the attention. The warmth is vacant and only his own. If Julian turns over to the side that his lover prefers, he will only be met with the cold and fading smell of the other. 

His husband hasn’t shared this bed with him for many nights. Most days like this, the redhead is left alone, laying in the dark with no signs of his other half. 

He lays awake, his head aching in the pain of knowing  _ why  _ he doesn’t share this bed. Although his heart may deny this truth, with the scars of a bite searing across his skin when he thinks on it too hard, his mind knows. His mind is what twists horrible images of the sights of his other half, his own King, what _Asra_ is doing. 

Rather than share a bed with Julian, Asra is off into the night, sharing the beds with women and men alike. Whether they are concubines or street whores, he will ravish them until early morning. 

The truth once brought Julian to tears, where he would wail brokenly into the night. That was the time the truth was  _ raw _ . It was when he’d caught the man he was infatuated with deep within a woman, sharing a part of himself that was promised to Julian in what seemed millennia ago. 

By now, it has become a distant ache. How unfortunate, that he has become accustomed to this pain that burrows an empty feeling in his stomach. The moment his back hits the bed, he becomes paralyzed, heavier than cement while he lay. A part of him so long ago would want to anxiously spring out of bed and chase after Asra. There was a time where he would want to beg him more than anything not to go, not to subject him to this torture. 

That plea has died in his throat, just as his tears.

* * *

Julian throughout his years settled In  Nevivon has become accustomed to soft, simple garments. They’ve always been fashionable and represent their crest along with the greatness their name holds. It was much easier to wear clasps and loose garb rather than tight suits and uncomfortable heels. The vast majority of his wardrobe was a soft material that allowed him to run and play.

To be shoved in the clothes he is now, is just plain misery. 

His once baggy dress shirt and cotton dress pants were replaced with a tight, black dress. It was a fishtail type, that only loosened around the knees so he could have some mobility. 

Considering that Nevivon was a small kingdom located on a port, it wasn’t common to be wearing such restrictive clothes. The salty sea air always came with tons of humidity, and many would find themselves shedding a few layers to not become drenched in sweat. Julian could already feel his tightly bound thighs and the bulk of the corset he wore dampening the longer he sat in the carriage. 

His thighs uncomfortably rubbed together with each bump of the carriage, and he could feel sweat creeping along the back of his neck. They even dared to put up his hair. Granted, he had refused to get it cut since he hated the way his parents always got it done, but now they shoved the slightly overgrown hair into a tight ponytail, with an embarrassingly large black bow to compliment. 

The dress itself was delicately made, with feathers carefully laid across the shouldering to look like bird wings wrapping around him. Where the crow’s feathers didn’t cover was where the fabric plunged, making his built pecs seem like breasts to the formation of an obscene window. The bottom of the gown matched the top in it’s feathering, with careful beading to let the detailing glimmer in the limelight. 

Julian wasn’t even entirely sure why they were going to a party. At any normal time, his parents would decline invitations to events. They always seemed so susceptible to a rebellion or attack, it was better to be at home manning the throne rather than out and about, leaving the palace exposed. 

In the end, this was just not his day. His sister got to wear a comfy looking orange tux, that was completely bedazzled in so many little gems that in pure sunlight she could blind a man. It seemed quite unfair that just because she was an alpha she got to be comfy while he suffered from the same amount of movement as a newborn giraffe. 

As the carriage ride slowed to a stop, a servant had rushed around the outside to swing the doors open. Julian could barely make out their face before they had bowed down, helping the royals with the least amount of contact possible out of the ride. It was almost uncomfortable to see them keep their head down and murmur words of greetings, trying their absolute best not to come off as disrespectful. 

The kingdom of Versuvia was much different than Nevivon, that much was immediately prominent. Even in the structure, the place was built to stand tall, the castle glimmering in the dark and so well cleaned that it seemed like a large mirror over anything else. Its windows had detailed stained glass in the front, and Julian was sure in daylight the place would shine like a diamond ring. 

_ “Come on!” _ Portia chirped excitedly, her eyes sparkling in glee while she dragged Julian along like a ragdoll towards the entrance. She was much more joyous about the prospects of a party. She loved looking at all the fancy clothes, dancing, enjoying the music, and just the overall feeling of being with other people. It was in her sociable nature to enjoy festivities like this. 

The inside was just as beautifully designed as the outside of the Castle. No money was spared on decorations, as ivory walls were decorated with tapestries of red, gold, and purple. It all detailed the kingdom’s history. Whilst other beautiful heirlooms and relics were presented in glass cases, proudly flaunting wealth and virtue. 

Knights in shining suits seemed lined five feet apart, manning and guarding all of the beautiful gems kept in the entryway alone. Whilst staff bustled along to lead guests to the ballroom. 

Energy bounced off the walls of the place like no tomorrow, all so lively with different voices echoing off each other in forms of soft laughter and small comments. Just stepping in seemed so hectic, and Julian had to take a deep breath before he could follow Portia and his parents, along with the butler who would lead them across the seemingly endless maze of a castle. 

_ **Right, left, right, right,** _ Julian tried to keep track of each turn they made, but each hall almost looked identical to the last. He’d lost track early on and was sure that they would need help to even get out of this place. 

After what seemed a solid three minutes of walking, they had finally reached the ballroom. The place was already packed, with people from other kingdoms, nobles, and knights alike. The place was just as lovely as the rest of the castle, with crystal chandeliers hanging off the ceiling, tall windows carefully cleaned, and large tables with silk draping for a buffet. 

Food was laid out, steaming hot and ready to be served. Crab, lobster, steaks, pork, and chicken, the smells that wafted from the cooked dishes alone overwhelmed the place, aside from the distinct strong perfumes and colognes that the wealthy had all put on. 

To say that Julian was out of his element would be an understatement. His nervousness had shot up the roof, and he gripped at Portia’s hand, worried that in this crowd she could just disappear. Even though the orange suit she wore seemed to stick out to what everyone else was sporting. 

Soon enough, everyone’s chatter was silenced and eyes all directed forward to a long stairwell. The King and Queen walked down the stairs, arms linked together. Lucio, the king, had a devious grin, waving almost hurriedly like he wanted to just party and have a good time.

One of his arms was a prosthetic, made of heavy gold, and worked well with his fluffy black overcoat and saturated red clothes. Whilst his wife stood much more refined, her smile soft and eyes lidded, the seeming opposite of the eccentric blond. Her clothes flowed with each step as if she had descended from heaven to grace the event. 

The room was filled with brief applause to the couple, greeting them well before Lucio spoke,

_ “Welcome one, welcome all to tonight’s celebration. I am so glad to see so many faces show up for the occasion. Tonight, we celebrate my son, Asra’s, awakening. Last week, on his fifteenth birthday, his secondary gender was revealed as an alpha. Now, that his rut has passed, I want us all to celebrate the rebirth of the future leader of Versuvia!”  _

The place was filled with joyous yells and another round of applause the moment the young man stepped between his parents, having a soft smile. 

The prince seemed as calculated and intense as his mother. Violet eyes swept across the room in the same sort of way, and the cracked smile he had was nothing like the grin Lucio carried. Julian could only stare at the man, transfixed with the sight of messy white hair and formal garb he wore, with edgings of gold with soft blue and purple fabric. 

Once the royals split apart, Lucio and Nadia leaving their son to enjoy his celebration, the clapping ceased and an orchestra was quick to replace the noise. Violins croaked out soft symphonies in tune to pianos and flutes, while a conductor’s hand moved like the flow of the river to direct it. 

It seemed all too soon that Portia was letting go of her brother’s hand, giggling with excitement and dashing off to meet someone. Julian winced at the loss, feeling even more out of place without his sister to salvage some of his dignity. 

_ “Why don’t you have some punch to calm your nerves,” _ his mother chimed, gently patting his back before pushing her stiff son to face the music. Each step he took towards the banquet sent another shot of existential dread through his system, and his palms were sweating through the small black gloves he kept on his hands. 

He wobbled a bit on the heels and tight fishtail dress before making it to the table, having to grip it’s sheet covered edge to regain some sense of balance. Many people were already at the table, looking about and picking up what they please. The kitchen wasn’t too far away, and the redhead was able to watch as servants filed out with trays of drinks and food to pass along the crowds. 

As the omega looked along with the selection of different drinks, from punch to lemonade, he noticed quite an abundance of alcohol. From Chardonnay to Wines and even vodka, all submerged in buckets of ice. Each one was opened to be poured and served. 

It was quite tempting, to see them all neatly laid out. The choices seemed endless, and if Julian was going to calm down his nerves, alcohol seemed much more likely to do the trick than any lemonade or punch. 

Biting his lip, Julian looked over his shoulder, trying to spot his family from the crowd. Portia was already off talking to groups of girls, arms animatedly swinging about while she told a tall tale, whilst his parents were talking to some nobles, sharing a few laughs and glass flutes of champagne. 

Without further thought, Julian picked up one of the wine glasses with a bottle of Golden Goose. He poured a generous amount of the soft yellow liquid before being satisfied and setting the bottle back into the ice bucket, praying none of his family would try to spot him and see the underage drinking he was partaking in. 

Quick as ever, he put the glass to his lips and took a swig, his shoulders releasing tension the moment it slipped down his throat. 

The drink was cold, and it didn’t burn on its trek down his throat. It went down smoothly and for that he was grateful, feeling as it only started to warm once it reached his stomach. He couldn’t help but sigh the moment his muscles seemed to unwind, the liquor seeming to settle his body into ease with his first swig. 

_ “I don’t think you’re old enough to drink,”  _

Well, it  _ had  _ calmed him down before that voice suddenly chimed in. His body was immediately a bundle of tight nerves again, knees weak and stomach a trench at the realization that he’d been caught. The redhead had to take a sharp breath before slowly turning around to face the person who’d caught him underage drinking. 

The last person he expected to be there, leaned nonchalantly against the wall, a grin on his face while he faced the omega. 

It was  _ Asra. _

**_Fuck!_ ** Julian’s brain cursed, going into hyperdrive while he stared like a deer in headlights to calm, violet eyes. What was he supposed to do in this situation? Surely not stand like a doe as he was now. No, he had to be confident, poised, refined like the man in front of him. 

He was a prince too, he couldn’t make a fool out of himself. 

Quelling his fears, he hardened his gaze and held the glass of liquor much more firmly. He gave a quiet scoff, trying to inflate confidence that didn’t exist while taking another sip of the drink, hoping that it would give him some sort of strength for this unexpected encounter. 

_ “Oh please, I’m the same age as you. And frankly, I look the part to drink, I stand taller than even you, Alpha,” _ he pointed out, letting his opposing fingers start to run along the rim of the glass, trying to hide his anxiety. 

It was a bold move to say such a statement, considering this was the prince’s castle and not his own, but he just couldn’t stand there like a dolt. He was hoping to change the subject, perhaps bring up fragile masculinity in the other to have the conversation turn. 

Though no such weakness showed up to the tanned man it seemed the opposite. The refined expression suddenly became a grin to rival his fathers, personality for the other parent finally showing to the sophisticated alpha. He stepped closer, and Julian almost felt more intoxicated by the smell of myrrh and sage that rolled off Asra rather than the Golden Goose he held. 

_ “For someone who seems to be sweating enough to make rain, you surely have quite a foul mouth. Rebellious type, are you?” _ the invasion of his personal space made him want to back down, but the omega managed to stay firm in his stance. Asra’s voice fell out in a low drawl, a purr, a siren's song that was trying to drag him into the deep end. 

And Julian was a sinking ship. 

_ “That’s right,” _ he replied without a second thought, only to scream at himself internally at the wicked glint that seemed to fill that charming amethyst eyes. What was the alpha gaining from this interaction? He had so many people to talk to at this celebration. He could swoon anyone with the gaze he was providing, with the proximity, all of it. What more was he trying to accomplish? 

_ “Well, if that’s the case,” _ the sage smelling man continued, one of his hands edging along slowly to take grasp of Julians free one, that had yet to stop running along the rim of his glass. The redhead’s face was burning, and he was sure at this point it was flaming to the point of matching his auburn hair. He watched as the umber-skinned male tantalizingly slowly led his hand up to his lips, pressing them against the back of the omega’s gloved hand.

_ “Would you care to join me in ditching this party to tour the castle? I promise it would be a very,  _ _ very _ _ rebellious act.”  _

Any words of reply had died in the redhead’s throat at that remark. Julian had fallen enchanted almost instantly. The alpha’s beckoning voice, his purple eyes that lulled deviousness, to how his mouth still rested along with his gloved hand, almost daring him to refuse. 

He had to lick his lips to return some moisture to them, as they had suddenly felt like sandpaper to this interaction. He could no longer speak and merely nodded to the invitation. All too suddenly, the rebellion in the others face was wiped away for a much softer expression, seeming satisfied with his work. 

With nothing left said, they intertwined hands for the first of many times, and Julian let himself be dragged into the depths with Asra. 

A depth he would never escape.

* * *

Julian opened his bleary eyes once he was freed from the memory, having to blink to readjust to the darkness he still lay in. That memory always seemed to come to mind when he’d fall asleep. He would wake the same way each time, crestfallen that it was merely a dream and he wasn’t descended back to a time things were so simple. 

He knew now of Asra’s intentions in approaching him so boldly. It was a physical attraction, an overwhelming need to romance a man he had glimpsed from afar, and became enchanted with the more they spoke. 

It never was romantic. 

The King remembered all the aftermath just as he had the first time they’d met- sending letters was the next leap. After a party of laughter and mischief, he’d become bombarded with letters from Asra, each one filling his stomach with butterflies and his head becoming dizzy with wanton. 

He remembered spending hours a day thinking of what to write, making his hand cramp and ink pots run dry while he’d scrawl down his responses, each one just a tad more risque than the last. 

Asra would invite him to each of his parent’s events after their meeting, and it got to the point where Julian would attend them without his family simply to enjoy the alphas company. He felt heard, on a cloud hovering over the earth when he stood next to him. 

He felt invincible, indestructible, a being who could no longer ache unless when he pined for the white-haired males’ attention. 

Kissing and lower touches were at the next levels. Once subtle hand kisses became full out make-out sessions in empty halls, where the alpha had dragged him to so they could have some privacy during the event. Respectable hands on hips or shoulders roamed further in indescribable bliss, teen hormones raging with every second they stayed melded together. 

Oh, how far he’d gone for that man. 

Julian was the one infatuated. He had fallen head over heels for the charming, mysterious prince that had sought him out nights before. He wanted all of the man, his love, his body, his mind, and spirit to be a part of his own so they may be forever happy. 

This wasn’t what the other had wanted.

Asra was still in for the physicality, even after so long of getting to know each other. He made that clear at the worst of times when Julian felt the most vulnerable. It wasn’t on purpose, he’s sure, but comments of this simply being beneficial would slip out between handjobs and gyrating hips from the alpha. 

It stung every time, but Julian could never find himself to end the blossoming arrangement even after things like that left Asra. 

Maybe it was because he was self-destructive, ignorant, and helplessly in love to think that this could become something else. That with time, this desire of bodies would become wants of the presence and mind. Perhaps he craved the pain physically just as he did emotionally by staying by the other side. 

It could be one thought or all of them in a chaotically swirling tornado, one that he never had control over. It’s hard to tell when there seem to be so many questions left unanswered, ones he wished he’d asked or pressed upon.

To this day, he believes if their arranged marriage hadn’t been set up so soon, that he would’ve had his husband’s heart. 

If Nadia perhaps hadn’t been so worried about her son’s possible desires outside of taking care of his duties, Asra would’ve been able to feel that same flutter of butterflies and dizziness that Julian experienced. If her fears hadn’t made her want to tie him down, to tame him, so he wouldn’t run rampant like his father, he would be laying in this bed with Julian, sharing his thoughts, his body, his spirit with him alone. 

Julian wouldn’t feel so vacant, with sage and myrrh making him want to sign in bliss rather than scream in agony as it does now. 

_ Maybe. _

* * *

Years have passed from the night of Julian’s first meeting Asra, but his opinions of the castle still haven’t changed that much even with time. No matter how many times he’s charted these halls, they still feel endless and identical. Even if he’s sure they’ve been redecorated for a few occasions, they all seem to meld and blend into each other, almost forming their own dimension with the complexity. 

For Asra, it always seems like he knows where he is. Even as their arms are linked and silence wavers, he’s firm and charting the area as he’s done all his life. 

There was a time when Asra would try to explain some technique to the redhead of how to get around, with all the mysterious hidden portals and catacombs, but that time has long passed. 

They’re walking beside each other, arm’s linked and steps synced, but neither of them speaks. It’s been many days since Julian has even seen the tanned man, but he can’t even think of what to say. What do you even start with, when you know your spouse doesn’t love you?

He could crack a joke, but he’s sure that he would simply be met with a look in response. He could try to beg for something,  _ anything  _ to leave the other, but he’s sure there would be silence. 

Asra has become so quiet to him, in all aspects. He no longer can listen to his voice lull about botanicals or magic, nor can he crack a joke and expect his beautiful dimples to deepen and hear the lulling charm of his laugh. 

Even as they walk together, Julian doesn’t feel welcome. His desire to snuggle into his mate’s arm is great, to look up with a blossoming pride to see some sort of reaction like he used to. But the other is so cold, so stony and dead in expression, that he simply can’t bring himself to do it. 

When they enter the council room, everyone is already there. From their appointed council to generals and head of staff, they all sit accordingly at a long table with glasses of water, awaiting their rulers to settle. 

This monthly meeting is one of the few constants Julian has left in his life. To simply sit and listen to each of the appointed workers give reports, plan events, or anything is the only thing that keeps him alive and not just rotting in their bedroom in his own self-loathing. 

As Julian adjusts his dress to take a seat, Asra is the one pushing in his chair. It’s a vacant feeling, no longer done to make sure he’s comfortable and more or less a routine action he takes. He doesn’t bother to look over to watch him sit down and simply sips his water while the courtiers take over the start of the meeting.

While he sits there, he wishes for many things.

The omega can barely focus on listening to his staff, not when he can smell Asra from right beside him. Sage, myrrh, jasmine, scents that make him want to scream and cry. It hurts to smell it, and not feel welcomed to touch the man. 

He misses when Asra would have Julian sit in his lap rather than the chair beside him, his rut close to emerging and the man craving as much contact from him as possible. He misses grasping the other’s hand when he gets restless and being able to meet gaze with lavender eyes that have lulled promises of security and love. 

Julians  _ itching  _ for something, but he truly has nothing. It’s pathetic, that a so-called King can have  _ nothing _ . But, it's the only thing that can describe the gape in his soul, the fire in his veins, the endless pit in his stomach that wants to be filled with butterflies all over again. 

But then, it seems to occur to him… He’s always given what Asra wants. 

When they first met so long ago, he didn’t fight the pull of his hold or the rebellion in his gaze. Every step of the way in their relationship, he’s been placid. 

He’s been willing at every moment. With each kiss and touch, he's eager and begging. Not once has he refused it, given Asra a challenge. His desperation for the other's love, has it bored the other? Has his submission and willingness… Made the albino-haired male, pull away? 

What if Asra is pouring fuel into dried logs, and is waiting for Julian to strike the match? 

Is that why he searches for others to light the fire? 

An idea is conjuring Julian's head faster than he can keep track of it. His want of attention, to have Asra to just  _ look  _ at him again like he did before they were married... It’s a desire that both excites him and pains him to think about it. 

He just has to try. For he is a sucker for pain. He will allow himself to be the fire, the zest, the warmth, anything that Asra wants him to be. 

But this time, he will be out of reach. 

His teeth instinctively start to gnaw on his lower lip while he tries to plan his next course of action. Carefully, he’s scooting over in his chair, getting a bit closer to Asra. 

They meet eyes for a brief moment, and the redhead can’t help but hold his breath at the small amount of confusion that’s emulated in his gaze. Julian just pushes out a forced smile and starts to reach to close some form of distance. 

Asra seems to expect Julian to want to hold hands, he can tell by how the male leaves his hand open, waiting for the other male to link them together. Though, Julian has to hold back a snort to the sudden shock that runs through the tanned-mans system the moment it’s his crotch that is held rather than his hand. 

Julian watches as seemingly hundreds of micro-expressions flicker in rapid through the alphas face. How his jaw clenches and eyebrow twitches while the cogs in his brain whirl at miles per hour. He tries to catch his mate's gaze from the corner of his eye, but Julian refuses to meet his enchanting lavender eyes again. 

Instead, he pays rapt attention to the meeting, asking questions, and making sure he understands every little detail in each report or plan that their employees provide. All the while, his fingers are diligently stroking and working, feeling as Asra’s length starts to fill out with every press or tug of his phalanges. 

He can practically feel Asra’s confusion, settling off in waves while he tries to look normal to the incessant prodding. Bit by bit, he shifts a little, trying to stay calm. He keeps trying to make eye contact with Julian, but the redhead still refuses to turn and look at the other. 

He just knows how he must look. Asra’s pupils are probably blowing out of proportion with each skilled movement of his hand. His breath is quiet but uneven, with sweat just about to fall past his eyebrow and go down the trail of his umber face while he flushes up, mostly hidden thanks to his tan complexion. 

Perhaps one of the good things of always giving the alpha what he wants is that Julian has learned how to please him. He knows the right amount of pressure to add, how to tug or twist his wrist to the others growing erection. It’s all muscle memory, and he fills his once hollow gut filling with an unadulterated warmth the longer he’s working the other. 

Julian doesn’t time how much longer he's sitting there, teasing the other to total hardness. But it isn’t much before the meeting is adjourned, and people are beginning to file out to return to their jobs. After most have stood up is when Julian has moved his hand away, standing up and saying farewells to them all while he gathers some of the strewn paperwork that others left to file for later. 

It’s only as he’s about to leave the space that Asra is acting, his hand gripping at Julian’s wrist and holding. It wasn’t tight enough to hurt, but enough to show that they weren’t done here. 

He finally looks at the other, and he gets momentarily dizzy from the way Asra is looking at him. 

His pupils have indeed blown up, overtaking a vast majority of the amethyst color for the lust that is building in his gut. His gaze is nothing short of  _ predatory _ . Asra looks like he’s craving Julian, that he’s a succulent dish on a table that he simply wants to  _ devour _ . The redhead can’t help but feel small, helpless even to such a gaze. 

Every part of him is pining for attention, wants to submit, and falls back underneath Asra’s thumb. 

But he has to be strong. He has to play hard to get, because if Asra wins again, then there will be no saving this marriage.

The alpha’s breath leaves much more heavily as if he wants to drink in the smell of Julian that is taking over every instinct. He’s now tugging at the small, pale wrist in his possession, dragging the other closer so he could run his lips across any bit of exposed skin. 

From his collarbone, neck, and jawline, the other isn’t stopping his crowding of kisses, licks, and bites. It’s taking Julian’s breath away. For so long, he has starved of this attention, and he’s trying so desperately not to fall apart under every perfect ministration.

He only finds the strength to stop the heavenly touches when Asra tries to kiss him. 

_ Too far _ , his mind insists. It’s an act that lovers do for each other, and Julian can’t find the strength to kiss the man. Asra doesn’t have that same love for him as he does to the white-haired male. If they were to kiss, and Julian knew he continued to touch, hold, and kiss other women and men, it would destroy the smatters left of his heart. 

It would make him cry, and he simply doesn’t want to shed those tears.  _ Not now.  _

His hand reaches up to Asra’s lips before the male could take his last piece of resolve away, placing a finger against the other’s plush lips. He can feel the male’s hot breath ghost along with it, and it makes his entire core shudder pleasantly. 

Before he could reconsider anything else, Julian is sinking to his knees. He’s sure that he fell a little too quickly, but the sting of hardwood meeting them is a distant pain that he can’t seem to care about now. The omega is far too enthralled with staring back into Asra’s eyes, listening to the hum that leaves him once Julian has settled, and letting his fingers fumble with the leather belt. 

It’s harder to get the others belt to loosen as he remembers, but he excuses it for a simple lack of doing. Undoing the clasp and tugging, he’s able to let the piece drop beside him before digging into the other’s pants. His fingers work past the elastic of cotton boxers before finally freeing what he’s searching for. 

The smell of sweat and sage is overwhelming Julians senses the moment the alpha’s cock is pulled free. He pauses for a moment just to admire it. Although dicks have never been an attractive thing to look at, there’s a part of him that wants to map the sight. He wants to remember this day, the moment he felt wanted by the man he loved for so long… 

The one that it lays unrequited to. 

His hand is wrapping around the girth, but he doesn’t find it in himself to start pumping it just yet. His thumb is simply exploring the shaft, tracing lines of bulging veins on the underside, and giving slow presses to his slit. Julian lets his eyes flutter to the sound of Asra’s choked whine, a silent plea for the other to just hurry up. 

Mouthwatering, he relents and leans forward, finally giving the other king what he wishes.

It’s a foreign feeling. The sensation, and weight of a shaft in his mouth, but something is comforting about knowing this is Asra’s length. It’s not another man, a stranger who he’d forget the face of. That this isn’t some horrible dream his mind is making him suffer with. 

He indulges himself and sinks completely down, letting a girdle moan escape the back of his throat to the press against it, while his cheeks hollow out to suckle around it. The sounds he’s rewarded with are marvelous little hisses, and grunts of endearment echoing out satisfaction.

Julian starts to finally pump his head, his hands gripped at bronze thighs while he smoothly lifted up and down, sucking against Asra’s girth all the while. 

Every movement he performed felt built into his muscles, a natural want to please and remember the many times he had done before. To breathe through his nose, hollow out his cheeks, or work his tongue along the sides and fight the strain in his jaw. No matter how many times the ache made him want to bite down or pull off, seeing the pleasure that hung off Asra was enough to make him continue, to go against it and overwork himself. 

Deep down, Julian hoped he could be better. That he was better than the other unidentified broads that the alpha would pick off the street or in his court. He wanted this burnt into the other’s mind. 

Maybe if it was, then he could think of redhead just as much as he thought of him. 

The alpha’s hands tangled themselves into his hair, rhythmically tugging against the auburn strands. The small pinpricks of his follicles being yanked were making the omegas brain go to mush, and his efforts only doubled while he moved faster, blunt nails digging crest markings into the thighs of the other.

Asra was getting close, Julian was sure of it. The signs of the male ready to release were clear as day to him, as he had spent many nights recounting all the times they had shared more than just kisses and touches.

From the twitch of his hips or the tightening grip in his hair, he was going to cum soon enough. Julian listened as the other’s breathing got more ragged while he got closer, and whispered silent pleads of more. He allowed himself to indulge and kept his head down to swallow what the alpha would let out despite the screaming in his brain that begged him to pull away. 

Salty and thick, it shot down his throat and he hummed at the sensation. This had once been a routine, a thing that kept normalcy in their relationship before it all went to shit. Satisfying the other, taking it all, before they’d go to their duties with smiles on their faces and empty balls until they’d see each other yet again at night. 

When he pulls away, spit and come are hanging off his lips, leaving a fragment of the connection they had just shared. Julian wipes his mouth before finally standing up, finally starting to feel the pain in his knees and numbing tingles in his calves. 

He turns to Asra, and the other male looks extremely content with what he was just given. Though, Julian knows enough about the man sitting before him that he isn’t done. 

Asra likes to give just as much as he does take. 

The albino-haired man has always been like that, for as long as Julian has known him. He enjoys taking the people he fucks to different heights of enjoyment and ecstasy. He likes having that level of control of pleasing and being there to hold them while they settle. 

And there he is, reaching out again, trying to pull him back into his arms. That same part of submission wants to immediately follow again, just like he did years ago at that party, just like he did at their wedding and anything after. 

But those hands have been tainted, and this time if he follows, he will truly be a fool. 

So, he steps back, out of range of the other’s hands. His nerves are on aflame, screaming and wanting to make him halt this decision. It’s a physical  _ agony  _ to resist Asra, but he can’t keep playing this game with him anymore. 

He offers a smile, but he’s sure that it looks pained and forced. In the end, he finds it in himself to turn around, and slowly walk out, leaving the suntanned male alone in the meeting room.

* * *

_ “So, then I told the receptionist to shut her mouth because she was trying to change the color of the napkins behind your back! Seriously, could Nadia find anyone more scummy than that lady? She already had her wedding a few years ago, she has no right to change yours!”  _

Julian listened to Portia’s ranting while he sat in front of a three mirrored vanity, his younger sister tugging and pulling his hair every which way to make sure it was perfect for the wedding. Her hands worked diligently, but not gently, to set each daisy safely in between the messy curls of his auburn hair. 

His sister pouring out her frustrations was a comforting thing to listen to, as he had spent years with her voice. For many years when they’d live together, listening to her ramble on about stories, things that annoyed her throughout the day, used to let him momentarily forget the things he’d worry about, even laugh if things got ridiculous. 

But, even with her voice going on hyperdrive to try and distract him, it did little to quell his nerves. Having a wedding, specifically _his_ wedding, was a stressful thought. 

The planning alone was hectic and horrible, considering the planner had done a lot to try and make things the way she would like it. Choosing what food they would serve, entertainment, the venue, napkins, table shapes, or even the location, were all things he didn’t think he would need to worry about. 

Though, the thing that plagued the redhead the most, was Asra’s clear reluctance. 

At first, Julian Devorak was overjoyed to hear such an arrangement. The person he’d written hundreds of letters to, had visited more times than he could count, and shared his first kiss with was going to be all his. He was bursting with brightness, and nothing seemed able to break his innate joy. 

Well, that was until he visited the alpha after the announcement. 

What he expected to be a very joyous encounter turned sour very quickly, with the alpha complaining that he would be losing all his freedom. He explained that Nadia was the one who set up their marriage because she didn’t want Asra to rebel away from the crown-like Lucio tried to do years ago. He took too many traits from his adoptive father, and it worried his mother deeply that he couldn’t handle the responsibility of the crown on his own. 

As much as it stung to hear those words, they only made him petrified of the future. 

What if he could never make Asra happy? If this arrangement would never be what he would want, then how could he ever please him? How badly would his mate mark ache each day, knowing that the one who gave it to him never wanted him? 

And then finding out the claiming would be  _ public _ . 

It had shaken Julian completely, and the butterflies that once fluttered in his stomach had been lit with fears. 

The thing that snapped him out was the obnoxiously, loud sigh that escaped his sister. She’d rolled her eyes and leaned forward, resting her head against Julian’s shoulder  _ “I can’t cheer you up if you aren’t even listening to me talk.” _

Looking at her through the mirror, he tensed up, swallowing slowly before looking down at some of the items laid out on the vanity's wooden surface. 

_ “Sorry,” _ he curtly stated, playing with the bottom of his cotton shirt, avoiding as much eye contact as possible. He listened to Portia let out another annoyed huff before continuing to work on his hair. 

_ “What could be worrying you so much, Ilya? I haven’t seen you this worried since we were kids and you accidentally broke a vase,” _ he tried to keep his worries in, to not make his sister have to join him in these fears that were bombarding him. But, he could feel her eyes staring him down, and knew he couldn’t hide anything from Portia even if he tried. 

_ “Do… Do you think that Asra could ever be… Happy with me?”  _

He winced simply because he just knew that her eyes were wide. She probably expected him to talk about being claimed in public, not about the possibility of her alpha having commitment issues. 

She’d gone stiff against him, and for a while they were silent. It felt like hours before she hugged him tightly, hiding her face against his neck and offering as much comfort as she could. 

_ “I know the wedding isn’t what he wanted initially, but you are a great person, Julian. I mean, sure you’re very socially inept, can barely sputter out an answer and sometimes get very secretive,”  _

He couldn’t help but crack into laughter at those comments, finally looking up at the mirror to meet her blue-eyed gaze  _ “Well, that does quite a lot for my confidence.” _

Julian watched her scoff and roll her eyes once more, even reaching over just to flick his forehead in disapproval. After she got her annoyance clear, she continued. 

_ “But, even with all that, you still are a good person. You’re very considerate and sweet, and a dash of mildly infuriating. If he doesn’t find it in himself to be happy with what he has, then I'll punch him in the throat,”  _

Even if worry still ebbed inside his chest, Portia always knew what to say to cheer him up, and it had worked. Somehow, facing the wedding felt a little easier, knowing he had an amazing sister in his corner to make sure he would always be okay. 

With his nerves eased, they were able to get him finished with getting ready. From pulling on silken tights to fastening a corset and fixing on the dress, it all was things they had practiced for the occasion.

Julian took a moment between fixing on dashes of makeup and adding accessories to appreciate the gown he was wearing. It was beautiful, to say the least. Rather than tight dresses that his parents liked him to be fitted to, this one was a billowing ball gown.  The ivory fabric was selectively decorated with lace detailing, swirling around the bottom of the dress. The dress itself would’ve haltered, but there was a sheer fabric at the top, that wrapped itself around his neck like a turtle neck and covered his arms in the fine material. 

Although the color wasn’t something he used to, he at least got to wear black gloves, that would for the most part be shielded by the large bouquet he’d carry down the aisle. 

From there, things had passed in a blur. From getting to the location of the Church, making sure that Asra was still there, letting everyone settle in the pews. 

It all just seemed to be a blink later that he’s in the Cathedral, holding onto his father’s arm in front of so many people, while Asra holds out his own in front of the altar. 

He’s hesitant because he knows this isn’t really what Asra wants. His eyes are devoid of any spark of joy or excitement for such an event. He seems more annoyed than pleased, and that almost makes Julian call this whole thing off before he loses his best friend. 

Though, even young, he has lost his voice. Reluctantly, he reaches and grasps the other’s hand, giving it an empathetic squeeze before stepping onto the altar, listening as his father walks to his seat in the first row of pews with his mother. 

And even from there, Julian can barely listen to the priest as he speaks about their holy matrimony and any of the other malarkey that leaves his mouth. He’s far too transfixed with the nice tux that Asra is wearing, black and white with a rose in the pocket. Or how his hair is so beautifully styled back, a rare sight that Julian is very pleased with looking at. 

He tries with all his might not to see the frown on Asra’s face, to act like he instead that he sees a smile. 

But Julian has never been too good at lying at himself. 

_ “I do,” _ the words leave Asra sooner than Julian ever wanted them to be spoken. The priest is yammering on-again, trying to prepare Julian and the crowds for the climax of this wedding. 

Asra’s grip on his hand is tightening, daring him, pleading with him all over again to say anything else than those words. To not just stand there like a doe, facing the barrel of a gun. Julian is struggling, wanting to say what Asra wants but so desperately afraid of what comes after. 

_ “I do,”  _

The grip on his hand loosens, defeated. Julian stares into those amethyst eyes, apologizing a million times through the gaze, but he’s not quite sure if they reach the other. 

_ “I now pronounce you husband and husband, and with that, the new rulers of Versuvia,” _ a crown is carefully set atop each of their heads, symbolizing the bond they now must share. The priest looks to Asra expectantly _ “You may now claim your bride,” _

Slowly, they’re stepping closer to each other, crowding the others' space. Julian finds his free hand curling into Asra’s hair, while the other holds their linked ones just a little tighter. Asra is undoing the top set of buttons to the dress, exposing the others neck and scent gland. 

_ “I’m sorry,” _ The omega whispers, guilt stabbing into his soul over and over, a never-ending knife that won’t relent. Asra pauses his movement, his arm encircling Julian’s waist to keep him still. 

_ “If the pain becomes too much, just squeeze my hand or hit me. I can take it,” _ is all the alpha replies with, before his sharp canines sink into the omegas skin. 

A roar of applause from the crowds covers Julian’s blood-curdling scream.

* * *

Julian bolts up from the bed in a cold, harsh sweat. His breath is ragged, throat parched. It immediately feels like the walls are closing in, that he has to rip off all the sheets to salvage some part of himself that is still left in that horrible recreation of events of his past. 

The wedding.

It’s not something that he’s ever liked to remember, or even think about. To the redhead, it’s a clear show of his weakness, his failure. He had a duty to Asra, to try and use his voice and cancel the madness, save the person he cared so desperately about from being eternally bound to him. 

And he stood there, and just let it all play out and happen. 

His eyes are filled with salty, hot liquid but he refuses to believe they are tears. Rather, he shoves his face into his boney, clothed knees, letting the water build-up there and even fall, all collected in the cotton as if it never happened. 

Only when his breath isn’t distressed and ragged, and the build-up in his eyes ceases, is he getting out of bed. His body is moving clockwork, all on its own while he slips on his bathrobe and walks out into the barren halls. 

Dawn is only starting to break through the horizon, with the calls of small birds filtering into the silent air. The king’s body moves seemingly on its own, as though he’s transcended into a daze. Step by step, he’s making his way to Asra’s office. 

He walks to look at his failures, captured in a beautiful organza gown. 

Perhaps he is a mental masochist for searching out his anguish, to stare and wallow at the mess he’s created with his reservations. But, he needs to look at it, he just has to. Questions that he once buried are now in the front of his mind, and scars he thought healed with time feel sliced open. 

There’s a fire underneath his skin from how harshly his blood rushes, almost making the omega nauseous while a throbbing in his neck grows. Even his own built instincts are trying to tell him to stop this, to not walk into the other office, and look upon an item that took it all away. 

His feet are now in front of the office door, and he can’t turn back. 

Hand reaching the cold metal, he turns and walks into the room, expecting to be met with darkness, aside from the breaking dawn’s light edging into the room. Instead, the room is lit with strewn candles, the scent of lavender overtaking his hurried mind and almost making him want to relax. 

Though, he can’t, when the owner of the office is sitting behind his mahogany wood desk, gazing up at him with a dead, expressionless stare. 

Julian’s heart almost stops completely at the sight of the alpha, astonished that he’s  _ here _ , rather than out of the castle, doing as he normally is. The stacks of paper piled on the desk seem to indicate he was too busy with his duties to be out, but that doesn’t stop Julian from feeling small, and weak. 

If only he weren’t so frail. 

He must look deranged, with how his hair is tousled from sleeping, body coated in sweat, and eyes having a level of urgency within. He’s sure if Asra didn’t know him, he’d suspect Julian to be a lunatic who broke into the castle. 

Their eyes meet, and the omega is ready to back down and leave, let this tugging of the heartstrings play out another night. 

“Morning.” 

Did… Asra just speak to him?

He has to look back up at the white-haired male, trying to figure out if that was real or his befuddled mind playing tricks on him. Asra barely speaks to him anymore, let alone  _ greet  _ him when he enters a room. It’s foreign beyond belief, and for a long moment, Julian just stares at the other, unsure what to do with himself. 

The other is simply staring back at him, violet eyes tired, but there’s an edge of amusement above the darkening circles. He goes back to his work silently, expecting Julian to leave or state his purpose. 

The redhead gulps before gaining some fragment of courage he has left, stepping into the room and letting the door slide shut behind him. 

“Good morning,” he replies in a whisper, still trying to process that he heard the other’s voice. It’s one of the things he missed so much, and even with such a simple comment, he feels his heart drumming. He feels out of place in the other office, but he steps forward as though he's welcome.

The scribbling of Asra’s quill and Julians hesitant footsteps are the only sounds in the room, everything is tense, calculated, careful. 

He makes his way slowly to a tall, looming figure beside file cabinets filled to the brim with reports from over the years. The glass shadow box has been covered with a grey quilt, gathering dust for what seems a century. 

It doesn’t seem that even Asra likes to look at the aged garment. 

The redhead’s fingers are slowly gripping onto the blanket, feeling along the worn material. It used to be soft, but now it has become almost stiff and statuesque, never being moved off the glass casing. 

A flick of the wrist, it’s all it takes before the blanket topples off the glass, a heap of dust smacking down onto the floor with it, making the air feel stale and dry in Julian’s throat when he breathes. He can hear the distant sound of a snap, the quill in the bronze male’s hand seemingly broken in two.

“Julian…” 

Asra’s voice is a quiet warning, stern yet pleading. He’s shuffling in his chair, ready to get up and pull the other away from the glass casing any second. 

But Julian is stuck in place, the air punched out of his lungs while he stares longingly at the dress. 

It’s just as he remembered from the dream, a twin. The satin covering on the ball gown shape, housing the careful lace along the bottom. The sleeves and turtleneck, that he can almost remember the sensation of on his skin. Even down to the small ornate beads, it’s all too painfully memorable. 

All except the blood.

Most of the right side of the dress has been stained by it. A gnarly, desaturated orange that has weathered with time, no longer an oozing red. The dress had never been cleaned after that day, Lucio exclaiming it to be a relic of the sacred works of bonding. Julian distantly wonders if theirs a garb somewhere in the castle stained with Nadia's blood all the same, and he can't help but feel saddened remorse to the thought. 

His hand is reaching up to his neck, feeling the rugged bumps of uneven, scarred skin. He traces back the memory, while his mind fills with his failure. 

He wants to spill it all out, and for once he feels like Asra will listen. That he will say something more than his unnerving silence, that Julian may mourn the loss of his best friend and growth of a cheating lover. 

“I should’ve said something else that day… Anything else really, just as long as it wasn’t ‘I do’... You should’ve never been stuck with me. No one should be stuck with me like this, and now, my lack of confidence has bound us, and I’ve lost everything.” 

The chair scuffs against the hardwood floor, Asra most likely rises from his chair, but Julian doesn’t have any more courage at the moment to face him. 

“I’ve wondered for a long time if there was ever a point you loved me… If there was a moment, where you felt the same beauty I had for what feels like a few seconds. And if you did… When it died.” 

“Julian-” the voice of the other is chiming in again. It’s hoarse, and Julian can almost feel the scratch in Asra’s vocal cords when he speaks. “-stop.”

His fingers are starting to dig into the flesh of his neck, the fire underneath his skin becoming almost too much to bear. He wants to rip off these scars, to free Asra of this trap that he caught him in. 

“Maybe if you’d never thought of me as attractive, you could be with the one you love… Or at least, someone who can satisfy you enough that you share a bed with them. Though, I wonder… If it weren’t me you married that day, and Nadia found someone else for you, would you do the same? Would they not see you for days, go months without your voice? Would they see marks on your skin, knowing they hadn’t caused them and where they come from?” 

He can feel Asra’s heat behind his back, the other chest just barely grazing the bathrobe, so close to pressing into him. Julian’s hand is still digging into his neck, scratching and trying to ease the flames that conjure. 

“Perhaps this misery of mine is exclusive, a gift sincerely signed by you. A punishment, for being too weak to say a word.” 

**_“Ilya!”_ **

The sudden snap in the alphas tone has Julian going stiff as a board, fear immediately shooting through his nerves and ready to turn him from being stuck to fight or flight. Arms are encircling his waist, and he feels himself being lost in the motions the moment his back is pressed into Asra’s chest, where warmth lives. 

And the isolating cold of the bed does not. 

His head falls slack against the glass shadow box, eyes staring off at the enclosed garment for a few seconds before falling completely closed. Warm breath is ghosting along the back of his neck, and all of Julian’s senses are honing in on the sensation. 

It’s strange, but not unwelcome. Soft lips are slowly gliding along, feeling up Julian’s neck, from the bumps of the bone of his spinal cord to the relieving tension in his muscles with each swipe. Only until they’ve explored every inch of freckled, pale skin is Asra finally pressing kisses, the redhead’s breath hitching to each one. 

An umber hand is carefully holding the omegas hip, carefully trailing up from its place to grasp at Julian’s jaw. Carefully, he’s guided to lift his head away from the glass in favor of leaning it back against the alphas shoulder, exposing the rest of his untouched nape. 

The cycle of touches to kisses repeats, but this time Asra’s diligent fingers are exploring the others jaw, slowly crooking up to Julian’s lips, asking for an invitation. 

Julian shouldn’t be doing this. Just as before, he should be stepping outside the circle of Asra’s reach, not feel the satisfaction of the other touching him. It’s filling a hole that has been empty for years, but in consenting, he’s also letting Asra  _ win _ . 

He will be giving his everything to the tanned-male, and what will he have left to call his own? 

Julian will have nothing left, but at the moment it feels like a worthy sacrifice. He will lose all of his dignity, confidence, and become a practically blank slate of distorted pain, but then he will have Asra’s touch fresh in his mind. The sheets in the bed will reek of him, and keep Julian from feeling a little less lonely at night.

He misses this so, and the moment that Asra is nipping at his skin has his resolve completely cracking. He accepts that this will be another mistake, and maybe that’s all he will ever be good at making. He understands that this may too become a distant memory, flickering into his mind every night like the day he was enchanted with lavender eyes. 

But, to hell with it all. 

His lips part and take the others amber fingers, reveling in the faint taste of ink and paper that rests on them. The redhead can feel Asra’s smile pressed into his skin, and he desperately wants to turn his head to look at those dazzling dimples that he rarely can admire anymore. 

“You always look so sweet when your mouth is all stuffed up,” the other whispers, and the words have Julian reeling, his knees going weak almost instantly to where his body needs to lean further into the alpha. 

Julian has always been far too weak for the way Asra talks in bed. The words that always leave are a gamble of obscenely kinky or soft, but it’s the voice of the other that always makes Julian painfully hard. A deep purr that rumbles in Asra’s throat, falling smoother than honey when he speaks and seems to grace the redhead in all the right ways. 

The fingers in his mouth muffle the onslaught of moans that Julian lets out to massaging his crotch. As he knows Asra’s weaknesses, he knows Julian’s just as well. Despite the amount of time it’s been since they’ve done this, that the alpha has kept the same mental map. 

In their tangle of limbs and hurried movements, Julian’s hand reaches up and curls itself into snowy white hair, relishing in the softness between his fingertips. He’s always loved touching at Asra’s hair, even with how messy it constantly seems to be. It once was his mission to finger comb through every tangle until there was none left, while Asra claimed it was impossible. 

He still let him try though, simply so they could sit for hours in the presence of each other, babbling anecdotes just to make the other laugh. 

Asra’s fingers are slipping from Julian’s mouth and his half-operating mind eagerly tries to reach for them back, but the chortle that the other releases has him flushing up and stammering. When he looks over his shoulder, Asra looks bright, content even. It’s the last thing that Julian expected to see since it’s been so long that there's been emotion behind that tanned face. 

The longer he stares the more enthralled he’s becoming in the sight, and he seems to be moving at his own volition, turning around and molding his lips to Asra’s. It’s a choice he’s sure will only make him more regretful after, but he just can’t seem to stop himself. 

His body is lifted off the ground and his nerves initially jump at the sudden weightlessness. Though, he slowly relaxes into the strong arms and squeezes himself just a bit closer to Asra while they kiss, only pulling apart so the other could carry him safely to their room without tresses of messy red hair to get in the way of his vision. 

The hypnotic halls aren’t reminisced on the pursuit of the bedroom, and the moment Asra has closed the door behind him, Julians back is meeting the wooden surface. They both touch at each other as they did as teens, finding every small sensation worthwhile and deserving of their symphony.

Each of Julian’s nerves is being interacted with electricity to each touch from the alpha, sparking a life inside him that he was so sure no longer existed. His heart beats with a new fevor that feels unstoppable. For once in so many years, he feels welcomed, alive, safe. 

He feels like he’s  _ home _ . 

A worry ebbs the back of his mind if Asra feels that same energizing life coursing through him, but it melts off in the sea of his fleeting mind the more Asra bites along his skin. To the harsh bites, rough pinches at his nipples, and nails digging into his sides, the pain is so deliciously inviting. 

For the moment, his mental torture is put on pause, and Julian can let every pent up emotion flow free because for so long it had built underneath his skin. 

Only when he’s riddled red is Asra pulling away, harsh pants leaving him while small droplets of the redhead’s blood leak from the side of his lips. Their breathing harmonized, the two just stared at each other for a while. The alpha has a blasted, charming smile across their face, and everything feels right in the world. 

**_‘How will I ever survive when everything is horrible again?’_ **

That question rings in his head, causing a sudden vibration of fear down to his very soul. The salty liquid from before is penetrating his eyes because he truly fears for his sanity the moment this is over. 

Asra’s expression softens into worry, and he’s pressing soft kisses onto Julian’s skin, delicate to the touch. At the moment, he’s treated like a protected gem, and the more he breathes in myrrh and sage, the more he feels relaxed.

“Ilya, you always overthink. Please, stop torturing yourself, let me take care of you.” Asra’s voice is quiet, made for the redhead’s ears alone while he continues the peppering of affections.

Julian’s voice is a croak in comparison to the alpha’s. While Asra’s falls smoothly, the omega’s remains a desperate, wanton plea that can barely be stammered out. 

“Please… Make me stop thinking, just for a little…” 

The alpha slowly nods, slotting their lips together in a much slower, more passionate kiss. Asra’s mouth tastes of jasmine when Julian presses his tongue through, and his body is falling back to jelly the more he’s coaxed into the soft touches. 

Calloused, bronze hands are loosening the knot from the bathrobe before they’re desperately trying to slip buttons through loops to free Julian’s torso from the cotton. The more time passes, the more desperation comes with the chalk white-haired males movements. 

His hips gyrate every which way against Julians, making broken moans fall from swollen lips. Mindless babble is all that the omega can let out at this point, no longer held by his constraints of overthinking, of worrying. 

Clothes are soon enough strewn along the bedroom floor, and Asra is perfectly fitted between Julian’s creme thighs, giving slow pumps to his length while Julian gawks, mesmerized by the sight. Although it was only a few days ago that he let himself worship Asra’s cock, this is certainly a different circumstance. 

He wants it, he wants Asra, completely and utterly. 

“You smell so nice, you know that Ilya?” the other hums, pushing back some of Julian’s sweat-soaked hair to press his forehead against it “Like salted caramel, or the beach. It’s warm, tropical even. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who can replicate it. You truly are special,” 

When the alpha pushes in, it steals Julian’s breath away. It’s like their two puzzle pieces, finally fitting together. One has been lost for years, and finally, it’s back and can properly form a beautiful image. 

It cleanly pushes all the air out of Julian’s lungs, like looking at his old wedding gown had done.  He feels almost overwhelmed by the intrusion, but the slick his body produces eases the stretch, and he takes every ounce of the pain like a treasure that melts his insecurities. 

“You’re too good for me, you know that Ilya? I’m sorry not treating you right like I should’ve,” 

Julian’s immediate want is to reply, to talk against what Asra is saying. How can he be too good for him? How can Julian deserve that title when the man he loved doesn’t even feel it back.

He chokes on the words once the tanned male starts thrusting, seemingly trying to silence the words he knows Julian wants to say. He holds on for dear life but god, he can’t just leave the other’s words in the air like that. He has to say something, anything.  But, his mind is drawing blanks the more Ara is gaining rhythm, and the argument the omega’s mind had prepared in microseconds is becoming gibberish.

“A-Asra I mnhn~ lo-ve you!” his asinine mouth spits out before his brain is dragged back to the depths of foggy ecstasy. 

He’s not quite if he ever heard Asra say it back while he worked himself into Julian, fucking all the pain away.

* * *

Blurry. 

When Julian first opened his eyes to the morning light, everything was blurry and hard to make out. It all melds itself into strange shapes and swarms of color, that are slowly blinked back into their normal formations and layout. 

His body pleasantly aches when he slowly works to sit up from the comfortable bed, sheets poling at his bare thighs. It still wreaks of sex, Asra, and himself in the room. One of the windows opened, letting the smells of their escapade waft out into the cool afternoon breeze. 

And then, there’s the alpha, sitting at the edge of the bed. 

Julian takes a moment just to stare at the other, a small part of him surprised he’s even still here. He’s shuffling about, seemingly buttoning up a shirt he’s grabbed from the dresser but hasn’t noticed that the redhead has awoken from his slumber. 

Emptiness is settling in the omegas gut again, the fear that reawoke from their shared moment in this bed is bubbling to the surface now that he lacks Asra’s touch. This feels like the only chance he has to talk to the other properly, to reach an explanation. 

He reaches out before he can think, and the tension in Asra’s body the moment his fingers brush against the other's shoulder is almost startling. The alpha has to look over his shoulder before his shoulders go slack, a defeated expression playing across his face to see that Julian is awake. 

“Good morning- or, I suppose it’s the afternoon. Did I wake you at all? I was planning to let you sleep,” The omega merely shakes his head in response, pushing back the tangled mess of his hair from his eyes before speaking. 

“We need to talk.” 

The look of remorse on the others bronze complexion is upsetting to look at, and he sighs before nodding “Yes, we do,” he follows after, his hands moving away from the half-buttoned shirt to rest between his legs, fingers curling against each other. 

Julian moves from his spot in the bed in favor of sitting beside the other. He’s sure to wrap a blanket around himself to shield from the cold air filtering in. He desperately wants to press into Asra’s side, but the time still doesn’t feel right to be doing that. 

“I’m sorry.” 

The alpha begins and his voice is shaky, nervous. It’s one of the few times that Asra doesn’t sound confident in himself, and it has Julian’s anxiety immediately enacting to compliment the tone. 

“For all, I’ve done to you- you didn’t deserve any of it. You are an amazing person, Julian, funny, kind, even with your self-destructive tendencies. I always felt reassured next to you, that everything could be okay in the end.” 

“Then why did you pick up other women and men?” 

The omega watches the way that Asra’s Adam's apple bobs in his throat when he swallows hard before he continues. 

“Our marriage was arranged by my mother, and I was scared. I feared I was going to lose myself in us being together completely, or what was going to come after. I didn’t want to lose my friend, and I wondered what this made for our future. Anytime I looked at tarot cards or other forms of magical practices, I never got a clear answer. But, after, we were happy… Everything was okay and normal and I didn’t know what to do with myself.” 

“I was used to being able to do whatever I wanted, whenever I pleased. Even if you treated me right and always made sure I was happy I felt… Caged. I felt like I needed to defy my mother, for marrying me off without my choice. I wanted the high I had of danger like I did when we were just messing around.” 

“But, I only ended up hurting you instead of her when you found out. After you found me with that woman, I stopped sleeping around completely. Instead of facing you, I walked away like a coward. Instead of being there for you, apologizing, or doing anything else to help you mourn what I’d done, I’d rot in my office at night working. I let working consume me, and used it as an excuse from facing you.” 

Julian can’t help himself to reach out and slowly pressing his hand against the side of Asra’s face. He seems to melt into the touch and even nuzzles back against the omegas hand. The alpha lets his own amber one cover it and squeeze it before turning to look at his spouse. 

“I let you sit and rot with your demons, rather than being a good man and facing your wrath, your tears, any of it. I deserved whatever your reaction would be, but I walked away for the sake of not hurting my pride. It’s my biggest regret. I assumed you hated me, and we would be formal in the public eye but just stay apart… Well, until you propositioned me, that is.” 

Julian flounders for a moment, his face blushing to match the shade of auburn his hair strikingly shows, clearly embarrassed to Asra’s final statement. There was a bit of a lighter tone to it, and Julian is washed with relief to know that underneath Asra’s regrets, he remains intact. 

“Well… In talking about that… I did it as an act of defiance. I assumed that you were bored of me and that you were still sleeping with other people… I wanted you back in my life, and I still do, Asra. I thought that doing something to get your attention, would bring you back. I had… I had no idea that you thought I hated you.” 

He almost laughs at that thought, that he could hate Asra. It would be a horrible time to laugh or snort, but he can’t see it in himself to hate the man sitting beside him. 

“You’ve done horrible things, that I won’t deny. The reason why you sought out others is unjustified, and you are right to feel bad for it. But, if you are willing, I want to take steps forward with you, Asra. Maybe this is another horrible mistake I am making for myself, a self-destructive act that can only worsen me, but I won’t know until after. I won’t know until I see if you are being truthful, or until I can forgive you for what you did.” 

The other nods, attentive in listening to each word Julian says. Soon enough, a sparkle of an idea seems to flash by Asra’s eyes, as he’s letting go of the omega's hand and reaching over into his bedside table. If it weren’t for the maids that cleaned the room, it would’ve been gathering dust from lack of use. 

Things jingle and clank within the drawer the more Asra pushes items every which way, adamant on finding something within the drawer. Eventually, his scurried movements stop and he’s settling back into his sitting position, something resting in his palm. 

When Julian glimpses over at what he could be holding, two golden bands are resting on it, made as a matching set. 

“Father had them made after the ceremony. Since mother rushed to have us married, they weren’t made in time and that's why we had to use the crowns as the symbol of matrimony aside from the... Claiming. He figured to give it to us on our anniversary, but by then you had found out what I was doing, and it never felt right to give you another symbol of my betrayal. If you’re sure you want to work on this and move forward, then I want to give you a sign that you can hold me to. I am yours as you are mine through our binding, It’s only fair I start seeing that.”

He’s hesitant, but the omega slowly takes one of the rings out of Asra’s palms, examining the small metal band that would fit around the other's ring finger. He looks up at the other, trying to map and figure out what emotions Asra is feeling behind his gems of eyes. 

This feels like a dream, but Julian is sure if he pinched himself he would find that it’s not. He’s so happy but also wants to cry. He’s getting to take steps to fix this, but the past hurt has not yet healed properly. Like a broken arm that didn’t go right, it must be broken again and wrapped properly, given the right attention, to be better once more. 

Julian nods to the man, a pained smile shining on his face before he hides it against the other's warm shoulder. He looks down at their hands, and slowly grasps Asra’s left, slipping the ring on and giving a squeeze before letting the other do the same. The metal is cold and aged, and it’s odd to have something on his finger, but with time it will become a normality. 

The tears over the years that have built up in the area started to plummet, his body heaving while the wounds find their way to bleed and ache. He’s pulled into the other's arms until he’s sat in Asra’s lap. He can feel the other's nose pressing itself into his auburn hair, and fingers tangling in to work into the overgrown locks. 

“Go ahead, Ilya. Cry, let it all out. I won’t disappear, I’m staying right here, for as long as you need,” At that statement, Julian’s final threads of composure have snapped, and a cascade of sobs leave him. 

No matter how loud his cries get into the room, he isn’t silenced, and rather gentle rubs on his back ease him, and the lavender that Asra’s smells are the most comforting rather than invasive. 

Julian has adjusted to the cold after so long. From the emptiness of the bed, to the distant touch of Asra when they walk down halls. An empty, existential dread has piled on with the distance, and now he weeps in the warmth and security of feeling assured that everything is going to be okay. 

Even if it’s not now, someday. 

_ Maybe. _

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't worked on a story in a while, so it was extremely therapeutic for me to get back to writing. Just to sort of let my emotions out and build something was nice, and a good change. I mainly haven't been writing from immense amounts of stress, so now that things have semi-settled, I can return to my passions. 
> 
> I really hope people enjoy this story since I have practically lived, breathed, and worked on this for quite a time. 
> 
> For anyone who wants to see sneak-peaks of future works, see when i update, or just my general madness, feel free to follow my Instagram @bluerose.161 
> 
> More updates on stories and works coming soon!  
> -Rose


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